


What You Don't Know

by Inkhit



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Frostiron Fest 2013, M/M, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-17
Updated: 2013-12-17
Packaged: 2018-01-04 23:22:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1086886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inkhit/pseuds/Inkhit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Loki is not terribly pleased when he finds out that his soul mate- and the key to his success in maintaining the throne of Asgard- is none other than the Man of Iron, Tony Stark. Violence and trickery ensue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What You Don't Know

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Vitanitas](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vitanitas/gifts).



> Here’s my submission for Frostiron Fest 2013, for ViestaDisaster/ Vitanitas. Hope you like it!

**What You Don’t Know**

 

There was only one person in all of the nine realms that Loki trusted with the secret of his continued existence.

Amora the Enchantress, dressed casually in hunter green cotton, lounged comfortably across his bed. One slim hand held up her blonde head as she stared at him.

“I trust there is a reason that you have summoned me, my _king_?” At the word ‘king’, her lips quirked into a grin. “I’m assuming it isn’t some sort of plot to undermine the Allfather? Let people see the widowed Odin calling for a beautiful young blonde to his chambers, late at night?” She scrunched her nose in delight. “The _scandal_.”

Loki did not smile. He barely even spared his longtime friend a glance as he paced back and forth. In the comfort of his own chambers- Odin’s old chambers, glorious golden bed and all- he could let his guard down slightly. He wore his own skin, and a simple outfit of a moss green tunic over black leather leggings.

“This is serious, Amora. I have neither the time nor the patience for jests.” Amora raised a well groomed eyebrow.

“How serious, exactly?” The underlying question was clear in her tone.

Loki waved his hand. “No one has realized that I wear the Allfather’s skin, if that’s what you’re worrying about.” He ignored Amora’s unaffected shrug. Tension was gathering at the base of his skull. “But they may figure it out yet. I fear I am losing my grip on the throne.”

In a blur of yellow and green, Amora was standing. “Explain yourself,” she demanded. “Has Thor-“

“It has nothing to do with your precious Thor,” Loki said irritably. He held his hands up, fingers splayed helplessly. An expression of bewildered loss crossed his face as he looked directly into the woman’s pale eyes. He took a deep breath.  “I can no longer control Gungnir.”

There was a heavy silence.

This could be disastrous, they both knew. Gungnir, the golden staff wielded by the king, was more than a symbol of Asgardian monarchy. Its obedience was proof of the right to rule.

“Give me the staff,” Amora said quietly. Loki did not even think to hesitate, merely let Gungnir materialize from the air before dropping it into her outstretched hands.

He watched nervously as Amora laid the staff across his bed and began muttering over it, fingers skimming the air around it with gentle reverence. It was an object of great power, and Amora had an uncommon gift for manipulating magical objects. It was almost as if she could speak to them. Letting her know of this monumental weakness of his was a risk, as he was never quite sure whether he could trust her or not. Unfortunately, his issues with the royal staff had become too great for even his own impressive skills. His true talents lay with the manipulation of sentient beings, and Gungnir was nearly impossible to confound with sly words. He needed Amora.

After several tense minutes of pacing on his part, and staring blankly into space on Amora’s, the enchantress finally spoke.

“Gungnir recognizes that you are the rightful king of Asgard.” Loki’s eyebrows flew up.

“It truly believes I am Odin?”

An unusually warm smile formed on Amora’s face. “No, Loki. _You_ are the rightful king. And he knows this.” Her smile dimmed as she let her hands fall to her sides, and turned to face him head on. “But he also says that you cannot handle all of his power, and so he has decided to protect you from it.”

The satisfaction Loki had felt at first gave way to indignation. “Can’t handle the power? That is absolutely ridiculous. I have held the Tesseract in my hands. I have wielded the Casket of Ancient Winters. I think I can handle a gilded _stick_.”

Amora looked over at the staff in alarm, as if it could actually hear the mocking words. “Careful, Trickster. Gungnir is more powerful than even you realize.”

Loki rolled his eyes. “Yes, yes, whatever you say. Did the magnificent Gungnir deign to tell you what I need to do to regain its obedience?”

At this, Amora showed an uncharacteristic hesitance. “He did. He says that you are too damaged to wield him. That you are but half of a soul.” She furrowed her brows, a slight blush staining her high cheeks. “Loki, Gungnir was made to protect the rulers of Asgard. And he has done so for much longer than either of our lifetimes. When his power becomes too great for one person to bear, Gungnir siphons some of it off to another. To the other half of the King’s soul. He feels that the power has overwhelmed you. He will not obey you again until you have this failsafe in place.”

Loki had stopped pacing anxiously during Amora’s little speech, and he was now staring a hole through her forehead. “You must be joking.”

Amora gave another shrug, grimacing. “It would explain why many Kings have passed on the throne after the deaths of their wives, and why those who haven’t have either gone mad, or been easily overthrown. I mean really, Loki, have you ever heard of a King who hadn’t married his soul ma-“

“Enough,” Loki said, deadly calm. “Are you honestly telling me that if I wish to continue this charade, if I wish to continue ruling in Odin’s stead, I must take a wife?”

Amora pointedly looked away from him. “Well…”

“Spit it out, woman.”

Scowling now, she told him, “It will look inappropriate for Odin to take a second wife. Which is good for you, because that wouldn’t work in your case anyway.” She took a deep breath, squaring her pale shoulders. ”You will go to Midgard, find and capture your soul mate, bring him back here, and somehow keep him hidden from the royal court. You are good with illusions, you will figure something out.”

Loki’s eyes nearly came out of his head. “Pardon me? Midgard? Capture? _Him_?” Amora scoffed loudly.

“Oh please, Loki. I’ve seen you bed more than your share of men, don’t act like this is some huge surprise.” She sat back down on the bed with a great huff. “Speaking to such a powerful artifact is exhausting enough without having to deal with you acting obtuse.”

“I’m less surprised that it’s a male,” Loki said, giving the blonde a scathing look, “and more surprised that you _know_ it’s a male.” Green eyes narrowed. “Did Gungnir show you my soul mate, Amora dear? Could it be that the staff is that powerful after all?”

She leveled him with a look. “Well, I _told_ you he wants to protect you. Of course he showed me.” She clucked her tongue. “Though I do not recognize the face.”

Loki threw his hands up in the air. “A face? My, what power!” He knocked a vase off of his end table in frustration. “Midgard has a nearly unlimited supply of humans! How can I be expected to inspect each and every one of their faces, in the hopes that I will _maybe_ find the right one in time? Midgardians die as if they were actively trying to.” Shattered pieces of porcelain crunched beneath his boot.

“Oh dear,” Amora drawled, inspecting her nails, “are you going to get violent? Because I can warn you right now to save your energy. I was given a name as well, you know.”

Loki stopped kicking at the pieces of vase and looked up sharply. “And? What is it, you overly dramatic shrew?”

Amora stuck her tongue out at him.

“Some very odd name- you know how Midgardians are. I believe it was…ah yes, that’s what it was-

Anthony Edward Stark.”

 ***

 

 Loki did not waste any time after hearing that. Several more vases joined the first on the floor. When they had all been shattered, and when the painting on the south wall had been torn down and stomped on, he conjured up an ax and began hacking at all of his furniture.

“You had better tone down the screaming,” Amora called out to him from the bed, where she was reading a book she had pulled out from some pocket dimension hidden in her dress. “You don’t want your royal guard rushing in here. It sounds like someone’s being murdered.” She flicked past another page without looking up.

Loki just roared inarticulately and landing a particularly vicious blow to a three thousand year old armoire.

“Okay, okay,” the Enchantress mumbled. She went back to her book.

Several minutes later, when a solid gold jewelry box flew past her head and exploded against the wall, she had to put the book down. “I take it you know this Anthony Edward, then?” she yelled out.

The wide eyed man pointed the ax at her menacingly. “I have already met him, yes. It did not end well for either of us.” He threw the ax to the floor. “I threw him out a window; he blasted me with some sort of extremely painful Midgardian technology. Not exactly the sort of fairytale meeting you would expect for supposed soul mates.” He kicked the handle of the ax so hard that if flew up into the air, did an impressive set of flips, and lodged itself blade first through a portrait of Odin hanging on the wall. Loki nodded at it with approval.

Amora blinked. “You mean the Man of Iron! You told me of him.” She smirked. “I thought you liked him.”

Loki scoffed, cheeks reddening. “Like? Hardly. A bit hard to develop feelings in the middle of a battle.” He looked suddenly furious with himself. “Not that I _would_ if I could have.”

“Oh stop it,” Amora dismissed. “You are Asgardian, whether you like to admit it or not. The battlefield is the perfect place for you to start a romance.”

Loki spluttered. “Ro- wha- _romance?_ Woman, you- I don’t even-“ He stalked over to the ax, and wrenched it from the wall with a snarl. He turned on his heel and marched towards the door.

“Where are you going?” Amora shouted, jumping up from the bed in surprise. Loki didn’t bother to turn around.

Sounding overwhelmed and defeated, he yelled back, “Hunting! War! I don’t know!” He morphed into Odin before he reached for the door handle. “I just need to go kill something!”

Amora’s laughter followed him down the hall.

 ***

 

 On the way past his startled guards, he pulled two aside. He gave them orders to retrieve the Man of Iron from Midgard, and have him delivered to his chambers immediately.

He remembered these two from his youth in the castle. They would be quick. They would leave no trail. And most importantly, they would remain silent.

 ***

 

 For three straight hours the members of the royal court watched as Odin sparred with each and every one of the seasoned warriors that guarded the palace. At first the impromptu show was entertaining. Several members sent pageboys to fetch their families, many of whom brought snacks and mead to share with the group. A few of the craftier wives brought handmade banners and flags bearing the Allfather’s crest of two black ravens over Yggdrasil. There was a cheerful, almost carnival-like atmosphere.

That is, until Odin drop kicked a guard nearly two thousand years his junior in the face, and laughed like a child at the sound of the guard’s nose crumpling wetly beneath his boot.

The crowd cheered Odin’s victory, eyes darting back and forth between each other. _Well_ , they thought, _that was a little un- sportsman like_.

It only grew worse. Odin began brutally beating his opponents with uncharacteristically savage glee. At one point he became bored with the ax he carried, and flung it across the arena with a roar. The seven foot tall warrior he battled shook so hard that his armor knocked together at the knees. He screamed like a girl when Odin charged him.

Slowly, people began drifting out of the small practice arena, looking over their shoulders as if they weren’t sure whether or not the king would be offended.

Luckily, it was mostly children being led away by their mothers, because ten minutes later, Odin decided to pick a man up by the crotch and launch him into the stands.

He laughed hysterically as noblemen scrambled away from the flying debris.

With a final triumphant roar he strode to the other side of the arena and retrieved his ax. Throwing the weapon over his shoulder, he strolled out of the arena, still chuckling to himself.

 ***

 

 With all of the violent energy burned out of him, Loki returned to his chambers in high spirits. He had done a lot of thinking, between drawing Asgardian blood and breaking bones. He had been furious at first. He had plans, intricate, masterful plans that depended on many little details coming together perfectly. Having Gungnir refusing to respond to him would be an insurmountable setback. He _needed_ to bond himself to his soul mate.

It just had to be a mortal. It just had to be an Avenger. It just had to be Tony Stark. Curse his horrendous luck.

He had so many questions. Why hadn’t he known, that first time that he had laid hands on Stark? Everyone knew that soul mates recognized each other by touch. His soul should have been singing when he wrapped his hand around that strong neck. But all he had felt was the sticky, cold itch of the Tesseract’s hold, weaving through him like poisonous vine.

As he had punched a warrior hard enough to dent his breastplate, he realized that maybe that was the reason. Maybe the Tesseract’s grip on his mind had affected his soul somehow. Or perhaps it was Stark himself. He _had_ been the only creature, mortal or god alike, who had managed to throw off the Tesseract’s influence as if he were merely waving away a bothersome insect. Perhaps he was immune to magic entirely. And if it _was_ Stark that had rejected the soul bond, then how would he manage to make it work _now_?

But most importantly, Loki wondered how he would manage to keep Stark in Asgard, complacent and bound to his enemy.

Loki strode through his room, absently magicking away the evidence of his previous tantrum. When he was finished, he went over to the one dresser he had left untouched, and removed something from the top drawer. It was Odin’s scrying bowl, a small thing of white porcelain and shining silvery metal, filled to the brim with clear liquid that shifted in unnatural ways. He gently placed it atop the dresser, and waved his hands over the top. The liquid shimmered, turned cloudy, and then parted like a curtain to reveal a moving, real time image of Tony Stark.

Loki smirked. Amora was right, he _did_ like Stark. Quite a bit, though the thought made him embarrassed even here, alone in his own room. He had thought it strange, that he dreamt of the mortal long after his capture, but now it all made sense. Some part of him must have known. He stared down at the bowl, watching Stark build something of metal and wiring, sweat dripping down his bare arms. It was quite a sight.

Anthony Edward Stark would make a perfect royal consort, he had realized, seconds before tossing that giant warrior into the crowd of pretentious courtiers. He was Midgardian- he wouldn’t understand Asgardian culture, nor the rules of soul bonding. That would make him all too easy to manipulate. He was mortal- the mere temptation of immortality might be enough to trap him by Loki’s side forever. He was also weak enough physically that Loki could keep him confined to his chambers without much worry. He was intelligent- in time, Loki would use that mind for his own needs. A few decades together, and he had no doubt that he could cultivate an obsessive devotion between them. Stark would fight for him, eventually.

And he was most certainly attractive, Loki noticed, licking his lips. Having this man in his bed, waiting for him every night, confined to his bed, to be used as the King of Asgard saw fit- Loki hummed low in his throat. Arousal flared to life along his skin. He could not wait to trick this mortal into needing him.

Deep in thought, he placed the scrying bowl back in its drawer, and sat down on his bed. He knew enough about Stark from Barton to be sure that a sexual approach would be best. Tony Stark’s weakness seemed to be the needs of his own flesh. And of course, Loki purred to himself, lying back with a grin, there was no reason for him to know that those very needs would be the thing that cemented their bond.

*** 

 

It was nearly a day before the guards returned, dragging behind them a short, dark haired human wearing a sloppily tied gag around his mouth.

Loki walked to the door of his chambers, in the guise of the Allfather, tying a robe around his waist. At the sight of Odin’s half naked body, the mortal’s eyes widened. He began to shake his head wildly back and forth, yelling something that was muffled by the gag. He thrashed in vain, his strength nothing compared to the stoned faced Asgardians holding him lightly by the elbows.

Loki snapped his fingers, and the guards dropped Tony Stark to the ground at his feet. “Leave us,” he growled, not looking away from the mortal crumpled on the flagstones. The two guards spun on their heels sharply and marched down the hallway.

With a smirk, Loki whirled around and walked back into his room. “Pick yourself up, Stark. I want to speak to you,” he said over his shoulder.

Stark glared at him and stood, knees shaking somewhat unsteadily. Either the guards had been a little too rough with his mate, or the mortal frame really wasn’t suited for inter realm travel. He took a few steps into the lavishly decorated room, eyes darting about rapidly. In any other human, Loki would assume that the reaction was one of awe at his surroundings, but Loki realized, with something of a satisfied spark deep in his chest, that this mortal was already looking for materials to aid him in his escape. He saw the dark eyes flit hopefully to a sword hanging above the four poster bed, and somehow resisted the urge to laugh in delight. Would the man really try to fight him? Had this creature no sense of self-preservation at all?

With a look of wary determination on his face, Stark stalked into the middle of the room. His hands barely shook as he reached behind his head and unwound the scrap of fabric covering his mouth. Loki wondered if the guards had gagged him to keep him from calling for help, or if they merely wearied of the endless sound of his voice.

“You know,” Stark coughed out, massaging his jaw, “I don’t think I’ve ever been kidnapped by a King before. So I’m not really sure how this is supposed to go. Do I bow before or after I tell you to go fuck yourself?”

Loki let out a startled bark of laughter. “Kidnapped? You are looking at this wrong.” He stepped closer to the dark haired man, a sly smile twisting Odin’s whiskered lips. He let his voice grow husky and deep. “You should consider yourself rescued, Stark.” Tony took a step back, a look of disgust plain on his face.

“Are you hitting on me? Please tell me you aren’t hitting on me.” He held his hands up in front of him. “I know I have a great reputation and everything, but I’m pretty sure I’m a little too old to be playing the jailbait to your creepy alien sugar daddy.”

Loki was momentarily confused, before he remembered that Stark saw him as Odin, flowing white beard and all. “I almost forgot,” he muttered, grinning. He snapped his fingers, and relished the startled yelp that escaped Stark’s mouth as his disguise dissolved below a line of sparking green-gold. Comprehension was dawning in Stark’s dark eyes as he gawked at the transformation from stodgy old man to slim, sleek youth.

Loki stood before Stark, looking tall and decidedly lethal in his full battle armor.

“Well, this is just fucking fantastic,” he said, rolling his eyes at Loki. “Kidnapped by a psychopath and I haven’t even had a drink yet today.  Not sure I can handle the crazy sober, Rudolph. How’s about you just send me home, and I don’t call Thor to come kick your ass.” He cast an annoyed eye at Loki’s head. “Seriously, the helmet too? Way to make a victim feel underdressed.”

The god merely grinned as he took in Stark’s black tank, oil stained jeans, and bare feet. “Stark, Thor and the people of this realm believe me dead. I doubt the words of a mere mortal will be able to outweigh those of the Allfather- or at least,” he shrugged with a smug look, “the person they _believe_ to be the Allfather. Besides,” he stepped in close, one fine boned hand grabbing the front of Tony’s tank top, “I find you to be altogether _over_ -dressed.”

A vicious warmth was sparking inside his chest, and Loki thought with relief, _ah, there it is._ Stark’s breath stuttered as he was pulled in close to the taller man, and Loki could feel him shiver. _There it is._

The human shook his head violently and gave a shaky laugh. “And that, right there, is why people call you insane.” He tried to take a step back and found himself unable to shake Loki’s grip. ”Yeah, you know what? This is very fucking weird. You should probably let go of me now.” His heart was beating so frantically that Loki could feel it against his own chest. Heat was sparking between them. Something very akin to victory was screaming in Loki’s blood as he took in Stark’s parted lips and hazy expression of growing lust. Brown eyes narrowed.

“Did you cast some kind of spell on me, you creepy Criss Angel wannabe?”

Loki’s chuckle was low enough that Tony could feel it vibrating in his chest. That sharp mouth was close enough to brush against Tony’s own as he whispered, “This is more than magic. And I refuse to let you go.” He felt Stark tense at that. “At least, not until I have made you completely and utterly mine.” And then he smashed their lips together.

Loki groaned low in his throat as the shimmering warmth transformed into a raging fire beneath his skin. Stark clutched desperately at the front of Loki’s leather and metal outfit, pressing his hips wantonly against the taller man’s. The sweet friction caused Loki to gasp against the burning mouth beneath him. One long fingered hand curled in the mortal’s short hair, wrenching his head back so that Loki could attack the tender flesh of his neck with sharp white teeth and a clever tongue. There was a fire in his chest, in his head, blazing low beneath his navel. The bond was calling out for completion. Tony growled, pulling his mouth away roughly.

“What. The fuck,” he ground out, struggling briefly. “What are you doing to me?”

“I am doing nothing that you don’t want,” Loki hissed back, eyes fluttering shut as their groins brushed together. “We are bonding.”

Tony tugged at the leather of Loki’s tunic, shoving his hands beneath to feel the hard, burning flesh of his chest. “I don’t know how they do it on Asgard, but on Earth, doing a little male bonding isn’t normally so…literal.”

Loki waved a hand and his torso glowed green for an instant, before dissolving his clothing into nothingness. He left himself in leather leggings and boots, bare from the waist up. The helmet dissolved, reappearing atop a small table next to the large bed dominating the room.

“This isn’t your silly Midgardian idea of bonding.” He took the neck of Stark’s tank top in both hands. “We are binding ourselves together forever. We are soul mates.” He ripped the top in two.

Briefly he wondered to himself, _Why are you telling Stark anything?_ Then the heat of his soul flared and blocked out his thoughts.

“Bullshit!” Stark howled, shoving Loki away from him, only to have the god grab him back with a delighted laugh. “I don’t believe in souls. I sure as shit don’t have one.”  Loki grabbed him by the shoulders and suddenly flung him halfway across the room, where he landed perfectly in the center of Loki’s ornate bed. He thrashed briefly on the charcoal colored silk, before stilling at the sight before him. Loki was standing at the foot of the bed, long hair tangled, eyes a wild and devious green. His bare chest was heaving and flushed, a hint of pink marring an otherwise perfectly smooth expanse of porcelain flesh. A manic grin stretched his red lips, and his teeth glinted, sharp and white. Tony’s eyes grew round as he realized how taut Loki’s shoulders were, his knees and elbows bent as if he were about to pounce.

“Listen,” he said somewhat frantically, throwing his hands up in front of him. “Can we just accept as a group here that this is absolutely _crazy?”_ He shook his head in exaggerated disbelief.  “I mean, hello? Did you or did you not throw me out of a window the last time we saw each other? Because _I_ remember that happening.”

Loki smiled, still looking like a predator about to claim its dinner. “Indeed I did.”

Tony rolled his eyes and gestured between the two of them. “You sure you remember it that way? Cause it looks like you saw some sort of romantic shit going on that definitely _wasn’t_.” He dropped his hand and narrowed his eyes. “Unless propelling someone through a sheet of glass and letting them plummet to their death is some sort of fucked up Asgardian courting ritual.” He grimaced. “Ugh, it isn’t, is it? As amazing as I am, I don’t think I could handle you, er… _wooing_ me if that’s the kind of crap I’d have to put up with.”

Loki pounced.

Before Stark could register what had happened, he found himself pinned to the bed by a snarling six foot two Norse god. Loki gathered both of Tony’s wrists in one hand and wrenched them above the man’s head, leaving his other hand free to grapple with Tony’s belt buckle.

“Fear not, Stark,” he hissed, “there will be no wooing. There is no need.” He whipped the belt across the room. “Don’t tell me you can’t feel the bond swimming through your blood as we speak.” And Tony groaned, because even as he opened his mouth to deny it, the fire beneath his skin flared. His nerves were absolutely ablaze. He arched his back, and Loki immediately took the opportunity to slide Tony’s jeans over his hips.

“I do not care about your lack of belief,” Loki whispered against the heated skin below Stark’s ear, fingers gripping the edge of his boxers. “We _are_ soul mates. You denying this will change nothing. And when I am finally inside of you,” he locked eyes with Tony, his expression smoldering, “you will be _mine._ ”

With that declaration, he crashed his lips into Tony’s, taking advantage of the other man’s sudden stillness to tear the boxers off of him with his free hand. Stark gasped as his overheated skin slid against the cool leather of Loki’s trousers.

And then Loki’s words sunk in.

He shoved the taller man away from him. Loki was so startled, that he actually fell sideways off of Tony.   

Tony scrambled up to the headboard, an incredulous look on his face. “I’m sorry,” he spat, “but I think I may have heard you wrong. Because there’s no way you just insinuated that you would be sticking _that_ anywhere near my ass.” He pointed towards Loki’s crotch with a grimace. The leather was tight enough to reveal a rather generous erection. Loki laughed.

“What’s the matter? Earth’s mightiest hero afraid of a good fuck?” He crawled up the bed towards his soul mate. Tony scoffed.

“Hardly. Guess you haven’t done that much research on your Eternal Beloved, or whatever bullshit name you were spouting before-“

“Soul mate,” Loki supplied helpfully.

“Yeah, whatever you say, crazy,” Tony waved his hand dismissively, looking disturbed. “Point is- Tony Stark never backs down from a good fuck. And you know what? I get the feeling that even though you are a very, very bad idea, you’ll also be one of those good fucks I’m talking about.” Here he stopped to flash Loki a cheeky grin. “But Tony Stark does not bottom. No way, no how. And definitely not for _you._ ”

Loki grabbed him by the ankle and _tugged_. He loomed over the other man, the tips of their noses almost touching.  “Stark, are you trying to tell me you’ve been saving yourself for me?” A nasty grin flashed across his face. “ How…sweet.” Though his words were teasing, Loki felt extremely pleased. His mate had never been taken before. He would be the first. This was getting better and better.

He yelped as Tony twisted him in just the right way so that he somehow found himself under the shorter man. 

“Of course you would only pay attention to that part,” Tony huffed, rolling his eyes.  “Let me clarify. Saving myself? Hardly. Saving myself for you?” He ground his naked hips into Loki’s clothed ones, causing the god to groan helplessly, eyelashes fluttering against flushed cheeks. “You must be dreaming.”

Loki pulled his leg up between them and shoved Tony away with his foot. Both men were breathing heavily at this point, staring each other down like two wild animals waiting to go in for the kill. A savage grin tugged at Loki’s lips at the thought of taming this mortal.  “Maybe this is a dream,” he panted. “Maybe this is all something you created in your puny mortal mind. So why don’t you just lie back and accept what your subconscious has clearly been longing for?” He went to grab for Tony, who spun out of his reach with unexpected grace.

“You’d know, wouldn’t you? About my subconscious?” Stark licked his lips, knees bent, hands curled in a defensive position. “You must be fucking with it somehow. Alien voodoo or whatever.”

Loki crawled slowly towards his mate. “Any why do you say that, Stark?”

Tony let out a harsh laugh. “Because I find myself a little too at ease with being kidnapped for an interstellar booty call.” His fingers twitched, and Loki’s eyes followed the movement with a raised brow.

“Again with the kidnapping?” he drawled. He inched closer to Stark carefully, almost dizzy with the need to claim this man immediately.

“You’re a little bit right, you know,” Tony rasped. “About me longing for you.”  He ducked another of Loki’s attempts, rolling smoothly to the floor. He backed up slowly, sweat beading on his flesh. Loki’s eyes followed the heaviness sticking out from between his legs. The evidence of Stark’s interest was a little too hard to ignore. The blaze surged through him. He was giddy with the heat of it. Loki could sense that something was shifting between them. Tony was stalking towards him with vicious greed in his eyes. “I _have_ been.” His voice was harsh and deep. “Ever since the invasion. Ever since I felt your hand wrap around my neck,” he growled now, pupils blown wide.  He lunged forward, knocking Loki off his feet. They tumbled to the floor. The silence was broken by the sound of their mingled panting, and the sudden rrrriiip of Loki’s pants tearing up the sides.

Tony gently wrapped both hands around Loki’s impossibly long neck and leaned forward. “Allow me to return the favor,” he snarled, and then _squeezed_.

Air was ripped from Loki’s lungs, and he felt his chest burning. It wasn’t too tight of a grip; he could still take in little gasps of breath. But the lack of control made him dizzy, made the blood in his veins sing. His nerves twisted low in his gut. The bond cried out for him to _finish it_ , _finish it._ The high whine coming from his closed off throat grew into a breathy moan, and he bucked his hips upwards.

It was several seconds before he realized that Stark’s hands had loosened, and that the frantic plea of, “ _Please please please please,”_ was coming from his own mouth.

Tony stared down at him triumphantly. Red flooded Loki’s cheeks, and he made to shove Tony off of him.

He couldn’t.

A low, rumbling laugh bubbled out from Tony’s mouth. “See, now I _know_ you didn’t do any research.”

Loki felt a sudden flare of molten heat against his neck. He couldn’t control the shudder as that warmth flooded his body. It was a similar feeling to the pull of his soul towards the other man’s, but different somehow. He was baring his throat to Tony, silently begging for more, but simultaneously felt the need to cringe away. It was too much. The ice was burning out of him piece by piece. “Stark,” he breathed, before looking mortified.

Tony held his hands up, his expression cocky. The skin of his fingers glowed a brilliant orange, shifting light like the tongues of a flame flickering down his arms. Sparks danced against his palms, and waves of soothing warmth pulsed around him. He took in Loki’s stunned amazement with all the smugness he could muster.

“Yeah, a lot has changed since you were dragged off to get spanked by daddy dearest.” He ignored Loki’s affronted scoff. “Extremis. A bunch of amateurs created it, and I mastered it. I’m a lot stronger now. I haven’t quite got the hang of it yet, but trust me,” he pressed his hands against Loki’s chest, “you will regret if you try to take me against my will.” The dancing flame in his hands grew to a dazzling inferno. Loki cried out, back arching clear off the floor. The sudden movement caused Tony to fall forward onto Loki, making it all too easy for him to feel the tremors wracking the taller man’s body.

Loki’s mouth opened and closed mutely, his eyes staring into the distance. His body temperature was rising too quickly. Sweat beaded on his brow. His spine cracked as he twisted upwards. “Too hot, too hot,” he began muttering, hands fluttering uselessly at his sides.

“Let me take the reins, Rudolph, and I’ll let up,” Tony said through gritted teeth. The ember glow of his hands flared to dazzling heights. He screwed his eyes shut. It was growing uncomfortably hot between the two of them. Loki’s skin was a burning red, slick and sweaty. His face twisted in a grimace that was equal parts pain and ecstasy.

“Stark,” Loki hissed. He grabbed Tony’s hips and pulled them down to his own, bucking wildly.

The heat was too much for him. He was burning alive, he would have to-

One minute he was shaking violently, feverish and desperate, and the next-

“Holy shit, you’re _cold_!” Stark swore, head jerking back to stare at Loki. His jaw dropped. His eyes swept the expanse of sapphire skin before him, wide with amazement.

Loki leveled him with a scarlet glare. “Say one word, Stark, and I will end you.” He bared his teeth, knowing that they were much sharper in this form.

“Alright, alright,” he laughed, “I don’t have a problem with the new paint job. No need to get your panties in a bunch.” He waggled his eyebrows. “In fact, why don’t you just take those off entirely?”

If he was expecting Loki to magic his own trousers off, he was sorely mistaken. The frost giant pushed Stark off of him and stood up, slow, a wicked grin twisting his dark blue lips. He resisted the urge to cover his body, pushing his innate hatred of the Jotunn form to the back of his mind. It did not matter. This was his soul mate. His mortal soul mate, who was turning out to be a greater and greater asset with every passing moment. He looked Stark over, inspecting him for burns. There were none. His deliciously warm skin was completely unmarred, save for a small circular scar in the middle of his chest.

The universe had a way of bringing people together.

Had it given Stark this unnatural heat to make the man a better mate for him? A perfect fit for a sometimes Frost Giant?

The impossibly amazing human was staring at him with mounting suspicion.

“Any particular reason you’re giving me that look?”

Loki hummed thoughtfully. “You can touch me,” he said wonderingly.

Stark picked himself up off the floor. He took in the lean, gorgeous blue flesh before him with a leer. “You bet your sweet blueberry ass I can.”

When Loki cautiously placed one long blue palm against Stark’s still glowing chest, he leaned into it, practically purring at how cool and delicious it felt. “Mmm,” he stepped forward to press his whole body against Loki’s. “That is perfect.” He took Loki’s wrists into his own hands and wrapped the icy arms around him. “Ugh, don’t move. Ever.”

Loki looked down at the top of Stark’s head incredulously. “You know,” he said, with no small amount of awe in his voice, “I wasn’t quite sure if you were indeed my soul mate. When Amora first told me, I reacted, well-“

“Violently? Dramatically? In an altogether over the top fashion?” Tony asked sweetly, voice muffled against a frozen shoulder. “Just a guess.”

“-poorly,” Loki frowned. “But I think I can accept it now.” He let one hand slowly come to rest atop Tony’s head. “You are a strange creature.”

Stark hummed in approval, before looking up with a skeptical expression. “Should I take that as a compliment? Actually, don’t answer. I’m going to just take it as a compliment.” He stuck his warm cheek back against Loki’s chilled skin. “Listen. I don’t believe in souls. So trying to feed me that line just because you want some exotic Midgardian ass isn’t going to work. It’s overkill. Just admit that you want to get laid by Earth’s most eligible bachelor, and we can get on with our lives.”

Loki could not stop the genuine laughter that bubbled up out of him. The self-possessed courage of this human was astounding. Especially since he was so unbelievably and dangerously _wrong_ in his assumptions.  “Stark, I don’t think you quite understand what’s going on here,” he said with a pleased grin.

“Oh, I get it, don’t worry,” Tony replied. “You’ve been in Viking jail for a year, pretending to be an old man for however long- you need some action. We’ve all- well, actually I don’t think anyone’s totally been _there_ , but whatever. Point is- I would be more than happy to indulge in a little male bonding with you.” He took a quick step back. “Tonight, and tonight only.”

He took another step backwards, and gestured grandly at his naked body. Loki had to bite his lip. “All of this could be at your disposal, big fella. Just say the word, and I’ll entertain all of your little kidnapped alpha/omega fantasies, or whatever it is that has you so hard.” His gaze flicked to the jutting cock barely contained by the ripped leather of Loki’s pants. His gaze turned steely as he met Loki’s own. “But only if everything is made right in the morning. You’re going to send me home, injury free, and then you and I?” He gestured between them with his index finger. “We’re going to pretend this never happened. I’m thinking it should be easy, considering everyone thinks you’re dead. And hopefully no one really thinks I’m into necrophilia.” He crossed his arms. “Deal?”

He glared at Loki expectantly. Loki considered him for several long, tense moments, before the tiny smirk on his lips bloomed into a full-fledged smile. “I will accept your services for the night, Stark,” he drawled, and the pull of the bond seemed to roar in triumph in his chest. It took some effort not to laugh victoriously as he added, with an almost sarcastic tilt to his head, “And everything will be made right in the morning.”

Two hours later, when he was being pounded from behind for the third time that night, and the bond had anchored itself in ways that made it hard to believe that Tony Stark still did not believe in souls,  Loki had a delightful little thought.

_What a wonderful fight we’re going to have in the morning, when Stark realizes he can never leave._

And not even the feel of his soul mate’s rough hand wrapping around his cock and wringing him dry could keep the mischievous grin off of his face.

**The End**

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Sorry for any mistakes; I didn’t have this beta’d. Here’s the original prompt, if anyone’s curious:
> 
> "After Tony and Loki find out they’re soul mates, Loki becomes a little shy. Actually extremely destructive and volatile, but it’s only because he’s embarrassed, really."
> 
> Obviously I went in a weird direction with this…


End file.
